Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-08-22
THE WESTFIELD GHOST.

| HE " ENlfIELD GllUNl.
Westiield il an old old town. and the
railroad has run through il for many n
year; now upon smbankments which slope
10 creeks and inletS; now through narrow
cuts with high walls rising sheer on either
side: now over wooden tresties. beneath
which the green water leaps noiseleSsly
toward the sea: now under old stone via
ducts messy with age. Day after day,
year after year, the t.ains 90 10 and fro,
and sometimes reckless foot farers are
seen in the brightness of the midday
making their way from WeStfield TO the
nearest village, or returning. on the rail
road track. But there are few who
venture that way after sundown Ii is
dangerous, they say. Many have met
their deaths through folly of this kind.
And this is true. Nevertheless there are
those among them who are thinking of
the Westfield ghost.
| II is the ghost Of n woman. 4 dozen
years and more since she died. And al
ways at dusk that faint, sad wrath floats
| to and fro over the ties and the shining
steel rails that run down cityward from
! Westfield between the high rock walls
and beneath the first dark arch Of stone;
il is there tho white shape floats and
fades, and reappears. For it was at that
spot There is a curve immedi-
ately beyond the bridge, and al shut in
| by rock. I0u can scarce breathe, having
heard the first dull roar of the approach
ing train, ere 1t is upon you, leaping and
shrieking, and the coaches dance by like
mad creatures.
But the pale ghost knows no fear. 1t
fingers there rs ever. And fourteen years
ago there was no ghost.
Let US turn back fourteen years and
read the story.
II Is morning in June. Morning in the
great city The sun shines sweetly, the
leaves of ivy and wisteria simmer in the
soft wind, where the thick vines have hid
den somber brown stone eXteriOrs. Innu-
merahle aggressive sparrows compete. car
riages clatter through the close built cross
streets occasionally, and hand organ
somewhere is measuring off yard lengths
| of The Little Duke" Two people hear
the tune as they stand smiling in each
others eyes. They stand near the win
dow in the drawing room of one of those
| fine brown stone. wiSteria mantled man
sions. The window is opened little, and
the tune comes up in blithe staccato; one
almost hears the words:
See how ms face he covers
He was the prince Of lovers.
The two people stand smiling a little
| longer; then the man turns from the
woman.
"I must Co." he says. Everything is
prepared. You will not fail at the last
moment? You will not be afraid ," He
is tall, and dark, and large framed she
is slight, and fair, aid petite. She looks
| at him with great shining eyes Of azure.
"Oh. no. she says. - i will not fail. i
am a woman"
Then au revoir," he says. "At 3
l will meet the cab at the station
Good by she says. and watches him
| go out and down the sunny street.
He was the prince of lovers the
hand organ filings it at her from the dis
tance. And she huns the tune as she
goes about her task. Her task is great,
yet little. Only TO write a letter-the
briefer the better. All else is complete
Her travelling sack is packed. She is
ready To go-to leave ell-for him whom
she loves.
The letter is brief She writes IT with
out a tear or pang.
George" it says, - have Cone-for-
ever. Do not seek me. | have never
loved you. No one is TO blame. / was
never happy as your wife. IRENE"
As the clock strikes the half hour before
3 she places the letter where ii shall easily
be found, and goes out into the sunshine
goes out from her husbands home for
ever. The lovers travel far away; they
| journey unmolested, even by conscience.
The woman is happy in her choice. They
have no wealth compared with that once
hers. But they have each other.
Months slip by. They rarely speak of
the past. But at length she says TO him
one day: George could not have cared
much. He will soon cut the legal knot.
And we can be married can't We,
Francis ,"
"Yes, he answers, carelessly.
Still they love each other.
Other months slip by. The lovers tire
of journeying. They drift back 10 the
great city, but somehow do not care 10
rest there. 1t is another June, more sui
try and like midsummer.
Eve will go 10 some near town, some
quiet waterside place" he decides. And
she agrees with him. He will re-enter
business in the city; he is tired Of idle
ness, he says.
| 1t is in the old town of Westfield that
they chance TO find that which they seek.
A house upon hillside, looking one way
down upon the distant railroad cut and
one way down upon the green sea water
and the greener far off island.
| Ii is n pretty house when all is fixed and
fitted. But it is lonesome, very lonesome,
for the woman who is left so much alone
| l,,-hS h.. - al. in bn fsry I..fy otI
alone, with only servant and the sum
mer wind 10 speak 20 her. And so, if she
grow pale ard gloomy and cease to smile
when he comes home, what wonder2
Without friends it is lonesome when
love is absent.
And he, too. seems TO have changed
There is a shadow growing up between
them. Faint and vague, Yet ever present.
Ever present in the long hours OF the sum-
mer day. Ever present in the long hours
IF the summer night. And deepening
and spreading like wall TO separate these
| two.
And gloomy looks and tears bring no
| ,elief They only serve TO chill his love
lis waning love.
Deeper and deepe- grows the shadow,
solder and colder grows his love, until one
day comes the end. Wearied Of her gloom
and tears he speaks his sharp reproaches.
And they part in bitter anger. lie goes
off 10 the city and she sits nursing hei
dull heartache all day long.
Evening comes, but he does not return
She watches and listens, hut he does mol
come. She will not break her fast oi
ouench her thirst; but he does not come
She heard the trains come thundering II
and hearkens for his footstep, but she hears
no sounds Quieter and quieter it grows
She waits for the midnight train. sh'
watches at the gate, watches the road n
far as she can see in the cloudy atmos
phere. she whispers his name over an,
. over. ''Francis. Francisn' and pleads VIII
| mil